Winter For Roses
by Parsonova
Summary: The story of "Briar" a dalish orphan with a knack for healing and spirit magic, who grew up in the Circle. I'm a big fan of darker stories and I felt that some of those moments were glossed over or ended to quickly. It will be angst, tragedy, adventure and romance. It won't be all doom and gloom though. M/M contents in the future. Changed the name from Flames Before the Frost.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N_

_This is my first fanfic. I've wanted to write one for the longest of time but never got around to it. Mostly because I lacked the confidence for it. But no craft is ever perfect without practice so I took the plunge, hopefully it'll pay off.  
__This is an attempt to highlight the darker parts of the story that I personally felt were a little rushed, I mean there's a Blight on. But then again I'm a sucker for brooding, sulking and heart-ache. I rated it M because I know I wont be able to keep from getting steamy at some point. How can one expect me to keep my grubby, writer hands off brooding warriors? But it will happen naturally. The story will follow the game in the beginning but I will put my own spin on it. The dialog will change also in time. I promise.  
Enjoy!_

* * *

1

The Great Animal is not what it seems.

The air was still in the apprentices' sleeping quarter. Only the flickering of candles pierced the darkness that hung in the air. The Templar swooped quietly through the room, skulking toward his intended prey. Briar slept in oblivious comfort in the bed before him. Without alerting the nearby apprentices, he managed to scoop the slim elf up and whisk him out of the room before he had woken up enough to protest. The Templar dropped him in the hall outside and closed the doors.

"W-what's happening?" he mumbled drowsily as his delicate hand batted the air in front of his face like if he was trying to swat away sleep itself. His pale blonde hair was tangled and his grey eyes, blood-shot. He suddenly became aware of the Templar who had placed his hand firmly on his back and was now urging him forwards. Icy tendrils crept up the young elf's spine, succumbing to a horror he had never experienced before. All apprentices knew what it meant when the Templars dragged them out of the comfort of their bed in the dead of night. The Harrowing. The single word was enough make his knees buckle slightly.

"Quiet, mage," snapped the Templar coldly, baring his contempt for mages proudly. "And keep moving forward! Up the stairs."

Briar, still bewildered by the events, bit his tongue and obeyed.

'_No reason coming to blows with Derrik,' _he thought. '_Wish I knew why he had to be so rough though. Didn't he know that you catch more flies with honey?'_

The climb to the top of the tower was like a death march. Slow. Quiet. With doom and gloom hanging in the air. When they finally arrived at the top of the tower, in a grand room restricted to only Senior Enchanters and Templars, Briar's heart sank. "The Harrowing Chamber" it had been named by the various ominous rumours from the other apprentices. This was where he had to partake in the final test to become a Circle Mage or perish, according to the rumours at least. Briar saw the curious look on his mentor's, Irving's, face as he approached them. He seemed sad yet anxiously hopeful at the same time. It was not an expression that he had ever seen the First Enchanters make before. With him stood Knight-Commander Greagoir, appointed as the Chantry presence's leader in the Circle. He wore his usual expression of disconnection and indifference that had apparently frozen on his face. Briar eyes fixed on a young Templar standing behind Irving and Greagoir. Cullen, a young knight who has yet to be poisoned by the older Templars. He had always seemed sympathetic and even friendly on the occasions that he and Briar spoke. He looked at the elf with a ghost of smile playing on his lips and gave him a subtle reassuring nod. He quickly looked away when his cheeks started to turn rosy, afraid of making eye contact again.

"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin." Greagoir spoke the words from heart without even looking at Briar. "Your magic is a gift, but it's also a curse, for demons of the dream realm - the Fade - are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world."

There was a moment of silence before Irving approached Briar. "This is why the Harrowing exist, to test you against the demons. This ritual sends you into the Fade, where you will face a demon with only your will as your weapon."

"This is lyrium the very essence of magic," Greagoir continued, speaking the phrases he had no doubt said multiple times. He pointed to a pedestal that stood in the centre of the room. The lyrium that it held made it glow an eerie dull white. "It will be your gateway into the Fade."

Briar heart sank. "What happens if I fail? If I can't defeat the demon?" His words were but a whisper.

"You will become an abomination and we, the Templars, will perform our duty." Greagoir spoke the words matter-of-factly. "You will die."

Without leaving him a moment to process this information Greagoir ushered him to the pedestal. "Every mage has to pass this trial of fire," Irving whispered into Briar's ear. "Remember, keep your wits about you and that the Fade is a realm of dreams. The spirits may shape and rule it but your will still holds power."

With his mentor's guiding word reassuring him he reached one hand in to the substance that looked like liquid light. He felt a tingle in his hand as lights played on his skin. And then everything became white.

The landscape was hazy and diffuse as if watching the world through the bottom of a glass. The further away an object was the more difficult it became to distinguish it through the white dreamy mist. The Fade played many tricks on the mind as the rules of the mortal realm didn't necessarily apply to it. With a sigh Briar realized he was lying down on the ground and he rose with a chuckle. Moving around in the Fade doesn't feel the same way as it does in real world. Just like in a dream you could not feel the ground beneath your feet until you looked down and then it was just because of your conscious mind, so accustomed to gravity. It affected your senses.

_Might as well move forward then,_ Briar thought as he watched the haunting statues next to the only path before him. He wasn't looking forward to walk this path through the twisted spires and gloomy ruins. As he continued to his trek through the dreamscape, for what felt like half a day, he realized that he had no idea how long he had been walking. Time was another of one those rules that didn't apply to the Fade. '_Ten candle marks or a tenth of a candle mark?' _he thought, wishing he had a candle clock with him.

An angry wisp, a weak spirit of the Fade, interrupt his thoughts when it unleashed a surge of lightning. The bolt hit Briar in the chest and he was knocked to the ground. _It's strange that I can still feel pain, _he thought as he quickly tumbled to his feet, gritting his teeth in pain. Keeping his eyes firmly on little orb of light, that was wisp, he started to cast a spell. He could feel the very air, or what he believed to be air, surrounding him grow cold as he channelled the winter itself around him. With a precise gesture he directed the chilling energy toward the wisp and watched it freeze and later dissipate. His night robes hadn't been singed. In fact, he didn't even seem to have acquired any injury at all but he still felt the dull ache in chest, where the lighting had struck him. Sighing once again, he closed his eyes and meditated on the pain he felt in his chest. He drew soothing energy from his surrounding and directed it to his chest. Luckily, he was well versed in the art of healing.

Feeling rejuvenated he continued walking, this time at a much quicker pace.

"Another mage thrown to the beast as fresh and unprepared as ever." The voice seemed to come from nowhere. "It isn't right that they do this, the bloody Templars. Not to you, me or anyone!"

Briar heard a squeak and saw a tiny, brown mouse cowering at his feet. _'No, it couldn't have? Or could it?'_

"Did you just speak, little mouse," Briar said looking at the furry little creature.

The mouse squeaked again. "Not everything is what it seems," it said and shifted. The light encased the tiny body as it grew to human size. Standing before Briar was a red-haired man in an apprentice robe.

"You are in the same boat I was," the apprentice said. He threw his hands up in the air in a mock greeting. "Allow me to welcome you to the fade. You may call me… Mouse."

Briar fought the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. "It isn't your given name, I take it?"

"No," he said with eyes filled with sadness. "I don't remember much from my time before.

"I guess I can relate to that," Briar said feeling the usual darkness flicker in front of his eyes every time he thought about his past. He made a point of not mentioning his name, of getting to friendly. He was certain that placing any form of trust in anyone he came across in the Fade could be hazardous.

"The Templars will kill you if you take to long. They figure that you've failed. I fear that is what they did to me. With no body to return to I have wandered the Fade ever since. You don't have much time before you end up the same."

'_How cheery.' _"How long do I have exactly?"

Mouse eyed him curiously. "I do not know. As you might have noticed, time flows differently in the Fade. I don't even know how long it's been since my… I ran away and hid."

"So what am I suppose to do then?"

"Did they not tell you? There is a demon here skulking around the Fade, biding his time until he can get his next meal. You have to face him and resist him. That's how it is, your way out or the demon's. But then the Templars would have to kill you."

'_Facing a demon_,' Briar thought. '_There it was again_.' He had figured that he would have to battle the demon, but know he wasn't so sure.

"Anything can die," Briar pondered aloud. "It can't be so simple as that. Can it?"

Mouse smiled, not a happy one but one filled with pity. "What you will face is creature of power, fiendishly cunning. It would be foolish to underestimate it. There are other spirits here. I think they can tell you more, if you think you can trust them." He paused for a moment, apparently thinking things through. "I'll follow."

Without waiting for a reply Mouse shifted back to his tiny form and gave Briar an expectant squeak.

"Well. Come along then, Mouse."

Briar continued to follow the twisting path until he came into a clearing. There was a creature of brilliant white light standing idly on the far side of it. This must be one of the spirits that Mouse mentioned. Briar approached it cautiously; not wanting to presume it was friendly. Although, it looked like it was the clear opposite of sinister. As he got closer he noticed that the spirit was clad in Templar armour but not the exact same as the ones in the Circle. This was much older and had different symbol on it, an ancient one perhaps. Briar noticed that Mouse was nowhere to be seen. _He must be hiding, _he thought and rolled his eyes.

"Another mage thrown into the flames and left to burn, I see," the spirit said. His voice was booming yet had a hollowness and an echo to it as if it didn't come from the mouth of the speaker. "It seems they have devised a cowardly test. It would have been better to test your strength against each other than to pit you against a demon."

Briar sighed. "I didn't have much choice, I'm afraid."

"Hmm. Perhaps not. But the fact that you remain here means that you have yet to defeat the demon that hunts you. I wish you a glorious battl-."

"Wait," Briar chimed in. "What manner of spirit are you?"

The spirit straightened up as if he was up for inspection. "I am Valour, a warrior. I hone my weapon in hope of the perfect expression of combat."

'_A warrior, hmm?' _"Couldn't you help me then, Valour? Saving a male elf from a demon might not be like saving a defenceless maiden from a dragon. But surely it could be such an expression?"

Valour stared at him for a moment. "You are not the first mortal to have sought my help. But I am not here to help you. My purpose is to ready my weapons and creating the perfect one in pursuit of valour."

Briar pondered that statement, trying to remain calm even when anger was clawing at him inside, desperate to be unleashed. "So the valorous warrior denies the pleading mage his help because his purpose in life is to create weapon in pursuit of valour. How… valorous."

Valour eyes narrowed. "I did not say I would not aid you. You may take one of my weapons but first I will have to test your worth."

"I can agree to that if you tell me what it entails."

"If you truly desire one of my weapons than you will have to duel me. Valour shall test your resolve, as it should be tested. In battle."

Briar let out an exasperated chuckle. "So you wish to duel me unarmed to give me a weapon so that I can duel a demon armed. I fail to see what it is that makes you any different from the demon."

Valour gasped, his light body losing a lot of its brilliance. "How dare you? I am a spirit of Valour-"

"You talk about being valorous but how many scared apprentices seeking aid have you cut down with your sword?" His usual low, melodic voice was now cold and hard like steel. Cutting deep into the core. "Did you kill them or just send them away, leaving them to fend off the demon alone? You say you are Valour but valour seems a lot like _Callousness_ without benevolence, doesn't it?"

Briar had for some reason let his anger get the best of him. He was usually calm and composed, preferring passive-aggression in front of direct confrontation. But there was something about this _virtuous_ spirit that had stirred something in him, rousing a flame forgotten long ago.

The light emanating from Valour had grown even duller.

"You are insolent, mortal," he boomed. "But you seem more virtuous than any of the mages I have come across before. I shall give you Valour's staff."

Briar tried his best to regain his composure and to not let his disappointment with the spirit show. '_At least he helped,' _he thought. '_And without having to get his hands dirty. How convenient it must be to be so… valorous.'_

"Thank you, spirit," he said and grasped the staff.

"Good luck, mortal." Valour said turning his attention to his blades.

"You are very brave to question a spirit of the Fade so boldly," Mouse said once they were out of earshot.

Briar frowned. "Well, some one had to be valorous."

He continued on the path before him, becoming more and more anxious with each step. '_How much time has passed now?' _he thought as his pace quickened.

He was almost running when Mouse alerted him to the presence of another spirit. It was a big sleeping bear but not one he had ever seen in any book before. Big spikes protruded from its back and its fur was matted with what appeared to be blood. It lazily opened its blood-shot eyes to peer at the approaching mage but it did not rise.

"So you are the one who is being hunted," it said. Its voice sounded like it was constantly in mid-yawn but it had a dark undertone that echoed with it. "And what of that small one? Is he a snack for me?"

With that said Mouse quickly shifted to human form again. "I don't like him. He's not going to help," he said quickly, sounding more and more like a scared mouse. "We should leave."

The giant bear yawned. "Hmm. No matter, that demon will get you later. And there might be something left for me. Some scraps perhaps."

"You are a demon, right?" Briar said. It wasn't really a question, more of an observation.

"He might be one even more powerful than the one chasing after you," Mouse chimed in.

"Be gone now, mortal. There is a demon skulking in your shadow. Surely you have better things to do than bother Sloth."

'_Skulking in your shadow sounded ominous,'_ Briar thought. '_Is it getting closer?'_

"Can you help me fight it, Sloth?" he asked even though he knew deep down it was futile.

Sloth sighed tiredly. "You have a very pretty staff, mortal. Now go and face your demon. Be… valorous."

The demon seemed to have fallen asleep, or at least pretended to have. Briar wasted no time and he stormed off to continue his trek through the confusing landscape. After what felt like many candle marks he almost wanted to quit. He had never felt so completely lost in his entire life. And then he noticed the statue. The same statue he saw when he first became aware in the Fade. While continuing on a straight path forward he had somehow managed to circle back to the beginning. He glanced back and saw that the there was no road behind him. _'Am I going to die here,' _he thought as he crouched down on the ground. _'Desperately searching for a demon and walking an endless path. Perhaps I am already dead…' _With those grim thoughts tormenting him like the buzzing of a fly on a summer night he started to sob. It wasn't something he wanted to do and he knew how unproductive it was. But the mere thought of walking the same path over and over again was enough to crack the mask of ice he usually wore. Now water was gushing out like frozen stream slowly melting in springtime.

"So now you weep, creature." The voice was booming, far louder than Valour's and with a fury Briar never heard before. Briar looked up to see an apparition made of pure fire that crept from the ground leaving it scorched. It twisted into a horrible angle as a maniacal laugh erupted from its core. "Soon I will see the land of the living through your eyes."

Briar shivered in the presence of the monstrosity. "The Templars won't let you escape. They'd rather cut us down then let an abomination free." His voice was still meek, still cracked and frail from the crying but he mustered all his strength and stood up straight.

"Let them." The horridly twisted face of the demon turned to gaze at Mouse. "So this is your offering to Rage, Mouse? Another meal as part of our arrangement?"

Briar turned to face Mouse who had assumed human form without Briar noticing. "I'm not going to offer you anything anymore," Mouse said, finally managing not to sound meek. "This one is different, he's stronger than anyone who has come here before."

"Oh. So now you choose to betray Rage after we have shared so many meals. Who are you to change the rules, little mouse?" The Rage Demon roared as it lunged itself towards them.

Briar had closed his eyes as the two had talked and gathered energy ready to be unleashed. He pointed his staff confidently towards the demon, which was quickly closing the distance between them, and unleashed it in a bolt of pure energy. It ripped through the demon's flame body causing it to let out another head splitting roar. Without missing a beat Briar raised his staff, summoning the winter and channelled it through his medium. When the demon was an arm length from him he quickly brought his staff down on its head ripping through the flames of its body. With a confident smirk he released the cold from his staff, freezing the demon solid from the inside. Its bright red eyes, burning with rage, faded and grew dim.

"You did it!" Mouse cheered. "I can hardly believe that you did it. I never thought that any of you would actually be able to defeat Rage."

Briar eyes grew cold as ice. "How many?" he asked with a voice so low it was almost a whisper.

Mouse reared back. "What?" He hadn't expected the question but his eyes told Briar the he knew very well what he was referring to. "I don't know, I don't remember when it started."

"So what were their names?"

Mouse let his eyes roll back as he thought for a moment. "I really can't recall. Perhaps I didn't bother to ask. I don't even know my own name or yours, for that matter. It's the Fade, or the Templar killing me, it changes you."

Briar pulled his staff from the frozen demon shattering it in the process. "So you just do anything to survive. Like an animal… or-"

With the sudden realisation fresh on his thought he swung his staff in Mouse' direction. Mouse, although surprised, jumped out of the way without even batting an eye. "Be gone."

"What are you doing?" Mouse squeaked, his voice once again meek.

Briar steeled himself. No more falling for appearances. "Were you really an apprentice? Did spending all this time in this twisting world rub off on you or did you rub off on the world, twisting it to this maze?"

"Maybe they are right about you," Mouse said; voice changed. It was darker, more sinister and cold and sent shiver down Briar's spine. "The Templars believe that all magic is evil. The fade is evil. When you are here you become what they fear."

"They would be wise to fear you, demon."

"Keep your wits about you, young mage. The real tests never end. And the true dangers of the Fade are preconceptions, careless trust… pride."

It laughed as its form shifted for the final time.

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_And there it is the first chapter, of many I hope. English is not my native language and I do not live in an English-speaking country but I consider myself capable. But I appreciate if anyone (if anyone read this far) point out grammatical faults or parts that were hard to understand.  
By the way, if anyone noticed I am quite fond of __allusions, it always feels like an inside joke between the reader and author to me._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N

Okay I know this chapter is long but I really wanted to end the origin part with this. I personally like a little meatier chapters. Since I don't want to just emulate the story from the game I have taken some liberties that might not follow lore so feel free to consider it AU.  
I also want to take the time to thank everyone who read the first chapter. Please, comment if you like it. And a special thank you to Jeff for the kind words!  
I hope you will enjoy this one as well.

The title of this chapter is taken form the chorus of the Marilyn Manson song "Are you the rabbit?".

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2

"Are you the rabbit or the headlights?"

"Briar!" The voice yelled. There was desperation mixed with panic, a potent combination that made the voice reach higher frequencies than intended. "Maker! Briar, please, are you alright?"

His eyes opened slightly, revealing his big elven irises. The light from the room burned his eyes, forcing tem to shut tightly. Briar groaned. "Jowan, is that you?"

He felt the warm hands gently stroking his shoulder. '_Am I lying down again?' _he thought.

"Yes, it's me," Jowan said and sighed out of relief. "I hadn't even realised that they had taken you until they brought you back this morning."

In an instant all those horrible memories of the Fade and his Harrowing came rushing back, almost causing him to throw up. He gagged and opened his eyes; taking in the room he had called his home for over ten years. "Am I back in my bed?"

"Yes," Jowan said and frowned, "that ginger Templar brought you in this morning. Your…friend."

Briar shook his head and tried to purge his mind from the haze that must have followed him through the Fade. He rose from his bed, a little too quickly and gagged again.

"It was the Harrowing, wasn't it?" Jowan asked loudly, his voice eager. "They came for you already!"

Briar stroked his temples letting the pain show evidently on his face. "Jowan, please. My head his reeling."

Jowan stood back and rolled his eyes. His eagerness to find out what happen was too much for him to contain. He realized that his friend had seen his disappointment and blushed sheepishly. "I'm sorry. How are you doing?"

Briar smiled faintly as he took the time, allowing him to catch his breath. "I'll be fine. I only need to let this nausea go away."

"Was it that horrible?" Jowan asked. His eyebrow pinched in concern.

"It was… harrowing." Briar sighed. "It has earned its name."

Jowan paced around Briar. "I know you can't go into details but, Briar, please. Can't you tell me anything?"

Their eye met. "You are one of my closets friends here, Jowan. But I can't tell you that. You have to believe that the reason it's kept a secret is for your own good."

Jowan threw his hands up in exasperation and laughed. "Easy for you to say. You haven't been here as long as I have and watched countless of apprentices wake up here in the morning, pale as sheets, muttering how horrible the harrowing was… Or seen all the empty beds of those who didn't."

Jowan was clearly upset and Briar knew exactly why. In a fortnight's time Jowan would turn eighteen. It was a couple of year after coming of age and that was an odd age to still be an apprentice. He was in fact the oldest apprentice in the Circle at the moment and had watched younger mages pass though their apprenticeship before him. Now Briar, merely sixteen years old, had done what he had not been allowed. The jealousy was obvious in his eyes.

Briar placed his hand on his mate's shoulder and looked deep into his frustrated blue eyes. "Jowan. You know they will come for you anytime now."

Jowan brushed Briar's hand off his shoulder and gave him a weak smile, as if apologising. "I've been here longer than anyone else in this room. I've made many friends and watch them leave and now, you too. It's just… hard." He sighed, letting his shoulder slump. "I'm just scared that they are never going to come for me."

"They won't make you Tranquil, Jowan." Briar said and shook his head as if he was trying to convince himself. "You might be a little too eager but you are a good mage and you know it. They rarely do it against anyone's will as it."

Tranquillity. That word filled apprentices with almost as much dread as the Harrowing. They had all met the Tranquil "mages" that worked in the circle and watched them idly follow orders as if they had no will of themselves. They had the basic drives of survival; hunger, thirst, need for sleep but nothing more. The very thing that gave a mage its power, made them able to dream and enter the Fade had been burned away in a process that also removed all their emotions and ambitions, leaving a highly suggestible shadow of the person they were before. They could think and act of themselves, their actions always driven by logic and reason, but if they were given a task they would perform it until either the task was complete or they were told to stop. Briar imagined they were like the blind ants that gather food, everyone always walking on an invisible trail leading to the hive. If one were to block the path that had been provided for them, the ants would simply keep walking in circles and follow each other until they all just die from exhaustion.

Jowan took a deep breath and straightened up. "Yeah, you're right, Briar." He flashed him his brilliant, carefree smile. "You're always right, aren't you? "

They both laughed whole-heartedly, letting all their anxiety, fear and frustrations out. "I try to."

"Oh," Jowan said, "before I forget. Irving wanted to see you as soon as you woke up. I think he's still in his study."

Briar pulled off his night robe and walked over to his footlocker that held all his Apprentice robes and chose the one that smelled the freshest. The soft orange fabric always felt so good on his skin.

"I've always found it so strange that you could be so uptight about everything but you have no trouble with changing in a room full of people." Jowan said and turned away, obviously uncomfortable, as Briar pulled out a pair of cloth leggings.

"Spending six years in a cramped Alienage orphanage, that is tinier than this room but is home to three times as many people, doesn't really teach one the virtue of being bashful. Even though the sister, who kept visiting, was harassing us, I suppose I have never seen any point in it. It's not like I'm completely naked."

Briar got dressed in a hurry and then ran his hands down his robe, trying to remove the small number of wrinkles and folds that had formed after it had been lying in his chest for so long. He brushed his blonde hair patiently, taking great care to part his bangs the way he always did and took a look in the mirror he shared with everyone else in the room. Feeling satisfied with the result he turned to Jowan.

"Don't worry so much, Jowan," he said and smiled. "I will meet you when it's time for supper."

Jowan smiled and nodded as Briar took his leave. The Circle was buzzing with life. Apprentices scurried along the halls, on their ways to the library or to their session with their tutors and Enchanters. Briar made his way through a room where an Enchanter was demonstrating to a group of half-asleep apprentices how to properly create a magical shield. Suddenly Briar was filled with memories of Irving, flinging fireballs and thundering lightning bolts at him that exploded around him in a terrifying inferno to test the strength of his barrier. With a shiver he purged those memories of horror from his mind. He felt sorry for these apprentices who was nonchalantly half-listening to the Enchanter, oblivious to the tests they were expected to take soon.

Irving was not alone in his study. He was arguing loudly with the Knight-Commander and a tall, dark man was standing next to them, trying to calm them down. He looked like a warrior. Curiosity took the best of him as he lingered in the doorway, eyeing the stranger even though he knew he should leave and return later when Irving was alone. But Briar had always been fascinated by the stories of valiant warriors and had never seen one himself, except for the Templars but he never considered them anywhere close to the heroes of the stories he had read.

This man had darker skin, tanned as if he spent most of his time outside, long dark brown hair that he kept in a ponytail. He had a scruffy beard that ran along his chin and jawline. His eyes were dark; they seemed aloof but not unfriendly at the same time. His voice was deep and commanded attention, echoing in the big room even though he wasn't talking loudly. He seemed to be everything that Briar wasn't and that fascinated him even more. He wanted to know more about him. He wore dark grey massive armour with golden accents, it looked sturdier than anything that Briar had seen even Greagoir wear. There was an insignia on the chest piece; two golden gryphons with their backs together and wings sprawled out. Briar was sure he had seen that symbol somewhere before, in a book about perhaps the most noble warriors in history. Who they were, eluded him. As he continued to stare at the man Briar slowly became aware that the man was looking right at him. Briar's cheek turned slightly pink, he had not only been caught eavesdropping, even though he wasn't paying attention to what they were saying, but also shamelessly staring at a man he hadn't introduced himself to.

"Irving," the man said, his tone friendly, "it's seems we have an audience."

The arguing men turned their attention to Briar who was standing in the doorway, praying to the Maker that it would swallow him.

"I'm sorry, First Enchanter," Briar said. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

Irving chuckled. "I'm sure you didn't, lad. I wasn't expecting you to be up and running quite so soon. I'm impressed." He turned and gestured towards Duncan. "This is Warden-Commander Duncan of the Grey Wardens."

'_Grey Wardens,'_ Briar thought,_ 'that was the reason why the insignia had seemed so familiar.'_

The stories of the Grey Warden, the gryphon riders who protected Thedas from the Blight, had been one of Briar's favourite stories as a child. It was perhaps every child's favourite story. Adults tended to not be so dazzled by such stories anymore, now that the gryphons were extinct and the last Blight, and all darkspawn with it, had been stopped.

Duncan turned to Irving. "Is this the young mage you told me about earlier?"

Irving crossed his arm and smiled proudly. "Yes, this is he." He looked at Briar and gestured for him to enter. "Come here, child."

Greagoir rolled his eyes at Irving; apparently tiring of how Irving always tried to boast about the young mages under his charge.

"This is Bri-" He caught himself. "No… Da'lath Surana, our newest member of the Circle as of this morning."

Briar wasn't use to hearing that name. Da'lath Surana was just the name they entered in the Circle registry, just the nametag that went along his phylactery, but it wasn't his, not really anyways. Surana was a common surname in the Circle. Because it was a common name amongst the elves it was given to every elf that had no surname. Da'lath was different though. It was a dalish name as his mother had been a dalish hunter. She had apparently been found wandering aimlessly around the countryside, heavy with child, and taken to the local Chantry. She had later died after giving birth to him. Da'lath, she had called him. But neither of these names sounded right to Briar. He had been made fun of by the other elves because of his dalish ancestry. His skin was more greyish than the other elves; it almost had a silver tone to it. He had been told that it was a dalish trait. He didn't want a name that everyone had a problem pronouncing to go with it. Besides, it didn't really feel like his name to begin with. Briar was the pet name he had received during his first year in the Circle when he had jumped out of a window, while attempting to escape for the third time, and had landed in a giant rose bush. He had not been given any punishment for that; both Irving and Greagoir agreed that the broken bones and the webs of scrape and gashes covering his body was punishment enough. The name stuck and Briar grew to love it as his own. He never tried to escape again after that and the bushes close to the windows were removed.

"…you may move your things up to your new room at this floor whenever you feel like it."

Briar was brought back from his reminiscing. "Yes, First Enchanter. Where is my room?"

"Speak with Owain, he will show you. You may also requisition your Circle apparel from him. You are now allowed to carry your own staff. He will have it ready for you."

"Thank you," Briar said bowing his head slightly at the men to bid his farewell. "I'm sorry I interrupted your discussion."

As Briar was just about to leave Irving raised his hand. "Wait, child. It's getting late and one is more agreeable when one have gotten their rest." He turned and gave Greagoir a pointed glance. Greagoir just arched one brow. "Perhaps you would be so kind to show, Duncan here, to his quarters. The one beyond the dining hall."

"Of course, First Enchanter. It would be an honour," Briar said and smiled. He turned to Duncan who had been idly listening to their conversation up until this point. "If you would follow me, ser."

Duncan looked at the two other men. "Evening, then. I hope we can continue this discussion in the moring." The men nodded and he left the room with Briar."

Briar felt Duncan's eye staring at him as he followed him through the hallways. It felt strange but he figured it was fair since Briar had been staring for so long earlier. They arrived at the room that had been prepared for Duncan. The Tranquil had taken great care in making the room feel homey.

"Here is your quarters, ser," Briar said and bowed his head slightly again.

"You know you don't have to be so polite," Duncan said and chuckled. "I'm not nobility and not your commander so just Duncan is fine. And tough I appreciate the gesture bowing is a bit too much."

Briar turned around and smiled at him. "I'm sorry. It's just that I have read so many great tales about the Grey Wardens."

"Oh," Duncan said and rubbed his beard. Curiosity made his eyes sparkle. "Then tell me what is your opinion on this war?"

"War?" The word had slipped out before Briar had time to stop himself.

"Ah," Duncan said almost with pity in his voice. "I forget how sheltered you are here in the Circle. Right now at this very moment the King is mustering an army outside the Wilds to battle the darkspawn gathering in the south."

"But I thought the darkspawn threat had been taken care of in the last Blight," Briar said and frowned. "The few that were left weren't supposed to be a threat at all."

"It seems that was a false assumption made long ago. I fear that another Blight is on its way."

Briar eyed him full of curiosity. "And you are here to gather mages to help?" Briar had a habit of posing observation he made as questions. "Is that why the Irving and Greagoir was arguing so passionately?"

Duncan smiled. "You are quite perceptive. So?"

"My opinion?" Duncan nodded and allowed Briar think for a moment. "Since I haven't been paying much attention to what happens outside this tower, unless it happened centuries ago, I don't think my opinion would be insightful."

"But still," Duncan said. "It would be refreshing to hear something from a different perspective."

"I suppose," Briar said biting his lower lip. "Well, since you came here on your own I assume the rest of the Grey Wardens are with the King's army in the Wilds. So if things are so dire that you leave the frontlines to come here we would be foolish to dismiss your plea. Besides I think both the Circle and the army would benefit from it."

Duncan laughed. The deep lines on his forehead and between his brows told everyone that he usually wore a serious expression. Now they were straightened out and his face had turned to something different. It was odd to see such stoic man laugh. "Irving said you were brilliant, Da'lath. I thought he might have exaggerated but it seems his praise were warranted."

Briar smiled politely and his ears burn, as they turned pinker. "If that is all, Duncan. I shall take my leave. It's almost time for supper and I have to find Owain."

"Yes, of course." Duncan said. "Thank you for entertaining an old man."

Briar smiled again and walked out of the room. _'He should probably have rephrased that.'_

Owain was head of the Circle' stockroom, where everyone requisitioned various items, magical or not. His desk was in the centre of the floor Briar was on now so it didn't take long before he found the Tranquil. He was the oldest Tranquil in the Circle. His brown hair was cut short and had begun to recede. He had the bright red sun, the symbol of the Chantry, burned to the flesh of his forehead as all Tranquil.

"Welcome to the Circle stockroom," Owain said mechanically as Briar approached him. "I am Owain, how may I help you?"

Briar smiled. "I know who you are Owain. I've been here many times before."

"Yes, Da'lath. You have been to the stockroom 78 times. You also helped out ten years ago as a form of punishment."

"Yes…" Briar said. He had to learn to live with the fact that it was just Owain's form of greeting. Perhaps even the way he had been told to greet people. Owain meant no offence. "I was told by Irving that you are holding my apparel and that you could show me to my new quarters."

"Yes, of course." Owain said and disappeared into the backroom. He returned a moment later, struggling with a big stack of robes, a small pouch and a staff made of iron. He put them down on his desk and peered behind Briar. "I'm afraid I won't be able to show you to your room just now. It appears a line has formed behind you." Briar turned and saw that a small crowd had gathered behind him. "If you wait right here, I will be with you in a moment."

"I c-could s-show you." Briar turned around to see Cullen standing behind him. "It's just outside m-m-my usual p-posting."

"Thank you, Cullen," Briar said and flashed him a grateful smile. "That's very sweet of you."

Cullen smiled; his cheeks had turned bright red. He took the huge stack of robes from the desk and waited until Briar was ready to leave.

"You shouldn't have to carry those, Cullen," Briar said as he took the staff and attached the pouch to the belt on his robe.

"Oh," Cullen said, looking down at his feet. "I just thought…they l-looked heavy and…I mean I'm a k-k-knight, I carry heavy stuff all the time and…"

Briar arched an eyebrow. "Are you saying that I'm not strong enough?"

Cullen gasped, almost dropping a robe. "N-n-no. I'm sure you're strong as a bull… I mean…I just wanted to…help."

Briar laughed, it sounded like birds singing. "I know you did. I'm just teasing you a little. It's become one of my favourite pastimes."

Cullen grinned sheepishly. "Oh," was all he managed to say.

He led Briar through the corridors, almost toppling over sometimes when apprentices were rushing out of the rooms without looking. It was time for supper; everyone was on their way to the dining hall.

"Here we are, your new room." Cullen said without stuttering or mumbling, having taken the time to get his confidence back. The room only held a bed, desk and a wardrobe. Anymore would not fit in the tiny room. It didn't matter to Briar, he had roomed with people his entire life. He welcomed the solitude. Cullen laid the robed on the bed. "I have to get back to my post now. Greagoir might find out if I linger any longer."

"Thank you so much for your help, Cullen."

"At your service."

Briar could see a skip in his step as the young knight left. _'Such a sweet little fool,' _he thought with a chuckle as he put his robes in the wardrobe. He took his staff and left his room in search for Jowan.

The dining room was almost full but no matter how long Briar looked he couldn't spot Jowan anywhere. He knew he couldn't still be in the Apprentice quarters, unless he had already eaten.

"Briar." Jowan stood behind him. "Do you have a moment?"

Briar gasped and turned around, his hand clutching his chest. "Jowan! Don't startle me like that."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "So, do you have a moment?"

Briar frowned. "Why are you whispering? It looks so suspicious."

"Because I don't want anyone to overhear us. Could we go somewhere and talk."

"Want to come to my room?"

"No." Jowan hesitated a moment before he continued. "I know the just the place."

"Alright," Briar said and waved a warning finger at Jowan. "But I will very cross with you if you make me miss supper."

"We'll have to hurry then," Jowan said and started walking at a quick pace.

They didn't say a word to each other as they walk through the corridors. Jowan seemed too anxious to strike up a conversation and Briar started to feel to scare to ask why. '_What could've happen since I left him a candle mark ago? And why is he taking me here?"_

They entered the Circle's small Chantry. Jowan walked up to a woman in a Chantry robe who was pretending to be interested in the candles in one of the corners.

Jowan looked around and let out a sigh of relief. "It's safe to talk now."

Briar arched a brow. "You realise that your standing next to a sister, right? Usually they are the ones you try to avoid, not your fellow mages, when you are doing something…suspicious."

The woman cleared her throat. "I'm just an initiate for now, Da'lath."

Briar looked them confused, waiting for an explanation of the situation. "You know how I've been talking about this girl I like…" Jowan said, staring at the floor at Briar's feet. "Well, this is Lily."

Briar sighed. He was well aware of the fact that Jowan held little regard for some of the Circle's rules but this was just too much. "Jowan. She has been given to the Chantry. And you're a mage. I'm sorry but I don't see how that is going to work. I won't say anything but you should end this before you both get in trouble."

Jowan chuckled. "I know that you are a practical goody two-shoes. I didn't ask you here to flaunt this, I asked you because you are my best friend and I really need your help."

Briar crossed his arms. '_This should be good," _he thought. Jowan only ever referred to Briar as his best friend when he needed help. Even though Briar knew he was being sincere he also knew that Jowan used sentiments like that to tug at people's heartstrings.

"They are going to make me Tranquil." Jowan finally said his with a trembling voice.

Briar felt the room grow dim. The walls were creeping closer, threatening to crush them. "What? Why in the Maker's name would they do that?" he exclaimed, realising that it was a bit louder than he had planned when the echo of his voice lingered in the room.

"Shush,"Jowan said, holding a finger to his mouth. "Have you gone mad? Irving's study is just next-door. But yes, Lily found a document from Greagoir requesting it." Jowan met Briar's confused eyes, his was own filled with tears. "Irving had signed it."

Briar frowned. "But why? They don't just force Tranquillity on you. They ought to have some reason. If we just talk to them maybe they will change their minds."

"But then Lily would get in trouble," Jowan said and shook his head. "Besides, it wouldn't matter. They think I'm a blood mage."

The room was getting even smaller. "This is getting preposterous. They can't sentence you without proof."

Jowan looked down on the floor. "Apparently they have a witness."

"But then…" Briar struggled with how he was supposed to ask his friend. "Is it true?" There was no nice way to ask you best friend of almost a decade if they had been practiced the vilest for of magic in all of Thedas.

Jowan shook his head violently. "How could you ask me that?" he snapped. "You know that I would never do something so stupid. Something so…wrong."

After he had calmed down from his outburst he placed his hand on Briar's shoulders, looking down on him. Briar became painfully aware of how short he was in comparison. "I'm sorry," Jowan said, his voice full of melancholy. "I know you had to ask. I would never do anything to hurt someone I care about. You know that. But they are going to take everything away from me. Look at Owain! He's so cold but he doesn't realise it. They take away your personality and you become content with doing their menial tasks, with being their slave. I'd rather they'd kill me"

"I understand," Briar said reluctantly. "You will have to flee. I shall help you."

Jowan smiled, letting his grip tighten slightly. "I knew I could count on you."

Lily walked up to them and placed her hand on his back as well. "You are good friend, Da'lath. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

Briar withdrew from them, thinking the situation over carefully. "If you are to have any chance of escaping then we will have to destroy your phylactery."

"Yes," Lily said. "We came up with a plan. But it have some holes in it we couldn't figure out without you."

Briar looked at them expectantly. "Every phylactery is in the repository in the basement," Lily said. "It's behind the Victim's Door. From what I gathered from a Templar is that you need a password provided by the Chantry and a Circle mage in order to open it."

"Did he tell you the password?"

"No," she said. "He only said something about it being his favourite verse of the Chant of Light. But Jowan told me he is a friend of yours."

"Cullen?" Briar felt both happy and sad at that realisation. Cullen would be the most likely to tell Briar the password but it didn't seem right to him to involve someone else. Even though tricking him seemed even crueller in his eyes it was perhaps the easiest and painless way to assure Jowan's freedom.

"Wouldn't it work if recited the whole chant?" Briar asked.

Lily shook her head. "That would take days."

'_Maker, I hope this is a necessary evil,' _he thought. '_Because if he ever realise it, he'll hate me.'_

"I know how I can get the password," Briar said finally. "Is that everything then?"

"Yes," Jowan said eagerly. "Well, there's a door which only Irving and Greagoir has a key for but I was able to get a Rod of Fire yesterday from Senior Enchanter Sweeney. It should be able to melt the locks. I've been using it for…various things."

Briar chuckled. "I did notice that there was a hole in the seat of Derrick armour last night."

Jowan smiled angelically. "Well, you know Sweeney has a sense of humour. He got tired of Derrick's glaring."

"No doubt," Briar said and smiled. "I doubt even the Maker has enough patience for that."

Lily cleared her throat. "Now if you are done perhaps we could get to it. We need to do this before supper is over. Cullen has already eaten and is on duty in the hallway. The rest of the tower should be almost empty while everyone eat."

"Right," Briar said and walked over to the exit. "Wait for me by the stairs. Hopefully, I won't be long."

Briar found Cullen standing in the hallway close to his room, just like Cullen had said earlier. He took a deep breath, letting some latecomers pass by before he walked over to the tall knight.

"Oh," Cullen said when he spotted him. "Have you already eaten?"

"Yes," Briar lied. "I haven't had much of an appetite since…last night."

Briar knew that the way to get to Cullen would be to play on both his obvious attraction towards him and the fact that he probably felt guilty about the Harrowing.

Cullen shifted. "Yes…" It was quite apparent to anyone who saw him that he was uncomfortable. His green eyes avoided Briar's as he ran a gloved hand through his red locks. "They asked me to be the one to…" He swallowed loudly. "I think they wanted to see if I could do it."

Briar moved closer to him and caught his eyes. "Could you really have…?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly. His act was convincing. Briar might have an ulterior motive and the trembling voice was not how he'd talk but this was something he wanted to know. He did care for Cullen the same way that he obviously did for Briar. But just as Briar had said to Jowan about Lily, that he should give her up, he knew that he had to take his own sage advise.

Cullen looked deep into Briar's silver eyes. _'Maker, they're diamonds," _he thought. '_No, even more beautiful.'_

"I don't…" Cullen mumbled then he paused, as if he had just been able to break free of a trance. "I think would have. But know that it would have devastated me."

"I'm glad," Briar said and gave him melancholic smile. "That is what I like the most about you. Your sense of duty." That wasn't a lie. Briar had always admired the knight for his chivalry, his unwarranted kindness and his virtue.

"Really?" he said and smirked slyly. His fear melted away and his words came to him with more ease. "There's isn't something else you like more?"

Briar gave him a mischievous look. "There might be. But I don't bare my soul just to anyone."

"And I am '_anyone'_?_" _Cullen said mock sulking. He smiled brilliantly. "What if I told you that your eyes are the prettiest things I have ever seen? That I fear that if I stare into them for too long they will swallow my soul?" His entire face was scarlet, even his neck and ears. He took a moment to breathe. "What if told you that I would gladly welcome it if it meant being able to look at them a bit longer?"

Briar's heart was beating rapidly. They were so close to each other. Briar could swear he heard the air crackle as sparks flew between them. "Cullen…" he began, now it was his turn to struggle. "I think that's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever told me. The most beautiful thing I have ever heard someone say." Everything happening around them, everything he had come there to do that was in the back of his mind had been covered with an endearing fuzzy mist. Briar never thought he could feel his heart aflutter.

Cullen took a step back. "Sorry," he said and broke eye contact. "I know I shouldn't have said that. It's inappropriate. But I have always heard how the other elves had talked about you and I never understood how anyone could say anything bad about you. You're just…"

"I think you are teetering on the edge of inappropriate again, Cullen," Briar said, smiling so wide, he feared his lips would crack. "But thank you."

He took a step forward, wanting the space between them to be filled with anything but emptiness. "I think you are the kindest man I have ever met. I see it in your eyes, the way you look at me. I'm a person, not a mage, not an elf, not a dalish. I've never felt that from anyone. I could tell you that I find you physically appealing but honestly your heart is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

Cullen head sank. "The Maker has a sense of humour, doesn't he?"

Briar smiled faintly, he felt the tears well up inside him. "He must be lonely to play such cruel jokes."

Cullen smiled and closed his eyes.

"'Maker, my enemies are abundant.

Many are those who rise up against me.

But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,

Should they set themselves against me.'"

Briar recognised it as the Canticle of Trials, a beautiful part of the Chant.

Briar closed his eyes, feeling the tears run down his cheeks and continued the verse from memory.

"'Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,

I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.

I shall endure.

What you have created, no one can tear asunder.

Though all before me is shadow,

Yet shall the Maker be my guide.

I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.

For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light

And nothing the He has wrought shall be lost.'"

"'Draw your last breath, my friends,

Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.

Rest at the Maker's right hand,

And be forgiven.'" Cullen finished and opened his eyes.

"I didn't know you knew the Chant so well," he said, clearly surprised.

Briar chuckled. "I might not embrace the Maker so fully as others. But I still think there are beauty, wisdom and comfort to find in the Chant even if one does not believe. So I took it to heart. I can't say I know the whole chant though."

Cullen laughed. "I think only the chanters can claim that." He looked at Briar full of nostalgia. "When I was struggling with…everything, Greagoir recited this to me from memory. It was such a comforting experience. It became favourite part."

Briar was instantly brought back to reality. He had come here for the password to the repository and instead he had let himself be swept away by a tidal wave. _'Maker does have a sense of humour, indeed?' _he thought. Without trying he had been given the password, there was no doubt in Briar's mind about it. Greagoir had known that Canticle by heart.

"I recite it almost every night before I go to bed. It comforts me. I just thought it would give you the same comfort."

Briar was brought back from his thoughts. "It did, Cullen. Thank you."

Cullen gave him a nod. "You should leave before someone comes. Before I do something I'll regret. But I want you to know that if things were different…"

"I know, Cullen," Briar said and patted him in the shoulder before he turned around and left.

He wasn't exactly sure which verse of the Canticle was the password but when going over the words there was only one that fit. He met with Jowan and Lily who had been waiting by the stairs. They were surprised that he was gone so long but ultimately happy that he had been successful.

The Victim's Door looked intimidating. They stood before the massive door following the intricate carvings on the panel with admiration. Many runes had been carefully carved into it to make this door impenetrable. Briar was quite sure that even if this tower were to crumble this door would still stand.

"Only a member of the Chantry is able to prime the door with the password." Lily was the first who broke the silence that had lingered since they made their way. "You will have to tell me it."

Briar told her about the Canticle and she agreed that it was the only verse that made sense to use as a password.

"'Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,

I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.

I shall endure.

What you have created, no one can tear asunder.'" She whispered the verse placing one hand on the door. It made a loud sound as if the gears within were turning.

"It seems like it was the right one," Briar said, a little surprised at the serendipity. "What happens now?"

"The password only primes the door," she said. "Now it needs to feel the touch of magic from one of the Circle." Briar reached over to touch the door, summoning spectral energy from the Fade. "Wait, you don't have your ring!"

Briar looked at his hands, remembering that he never put on his 'Ring of Magi' that was part of his apparel he requisitioned. The ring, which was bound to the mage it was made for, would empower any spell cast and was most likely what the door reacted to. Briar slumped, his hands falling to either side. '_Do I really have to walk all the way back up?' _he thought.

Suddenly he felt that he still had the pouch strapped to his belt. "Wait, I have it right here, I think." He reached into in a produced a small silver ring and slipped it on his right ring finger. "Here we go."

The Victim's Door swung open. Behind it was a small corridor and another door. The door to the Phylactery Chamber. Jowan produced the Rod of Fire from the sleeve of his robe and went over to the door. They were all smiling when they saw the lock of the door turn to liquid and run down the front panel. '_Everything had gone according to plan,'_ he thought. '_Even better, now Cullen can't accuse me of helping since he never really told me the password.'_

It wasn't until they exited the basement that things came crashing down.

"You were right, Irving," Greagoir said, startling them. "This initiate conspired with a blood mage." Greagoir, Irving, Cullen and two other Templars were standing by the stairs, waiting for them.

Irving fixed his weary eyes on Briar. "And you, Da'lath. You disappoint me. A full-fledge member for only a day and this is what you do?" His voice was sharp, cutting Briar deeply. He heard them arguing, heard Jowan scream defiantly at Greagoir and Irving but the words weren't connecting. He had been caught betraying the some of the few people he valued.

"With the authority vested in me by the Divine I sentence this blood mage to death." Greagoir said. He turned to Briar and Lily, glaring a hole through their skulls. "As for you, initiate. You will be sent to Aeonar."

The walls crept closer.

Aeonar, the mage's prison, was tainted. Countless of ritual by the Tevinter Imperium had left the Veil in the fortress weak. Now it housed defiant mages and people helping them, leaving them to be torment by the demons they had been attracted to.

Briar saw Jowan, through the corner of his eyes, pull out a big knife and slash his wrist. To everyone's horror, the blood that was pouring down on the floor started to rise into the air, becoming a thick disgusting mist. For a single moment all everyone could see was the dark red blood that hung in the air all around them. Then the welcoming party were ripped to the ground.

Briar could here Jowan scream at Lily, pleading with her to come with him. His ears were ringing, his knees buckled. His stomach emptied itself on the ground in front of him but he barely felt it. For that short amount of time that felt like an eternity he did not think about anything at all. There was nothing. When he came to his senses he realised that he was covered in blood. He had the disgustingly sweet iron taste in his mouth. He had been spared the spell but what of the others. _'Jowan couldn't have killed them, could he?'_

He felt the walls squeeze the air out of his lungs.

"Irving," he croaked and rushed to his mentor side. "Please, Irving, you can't be…"

He roused. "I'm alright, child. What about the others? Greagoir are you well?"

Briar looked up to see that everyone had survived, though they all looked worse for wear.

"I'm fine," he said and walked up to Briar. He grasped the much frailer elf's shoulder and pulled him up from the ground. Briar was almost dangling in the air, his shoulder screaming in protest. "You helped a blood mage," he screamed and shoved the elf away from him in disgust. "Where is the initiate?"

Lily rose from her crouched position in the corner and walked up to Greagoir with dignity. "I'm here, Greagoir."

He looked at her with even more disgust. "You have forsaken your vows and aided a maleficar."

"He swore to us that he wasn't a blood mage," Briar said weakly, his voice had still not recovered from the shock. "Lily couldn't have known!"

Lily looked at him with tears in her eyes. "Save your breath, my friend." She blinked back the tears and turned her attention back to Greagoir. " What you say is correct. I will surrender to whatever punishment you see fit."

Greagoir shook his head. "Take her away from my sight," he growled. The two Templars that Briar didn't recognise escorted her away. It was the last Briar ever saw of her.

Irving finally rose. "Da'lath," he said, his voice was beyond disappointment and anger. "You have betrayed the Circle and your action have brought shame to us all. I can not protect you this time."

"I understand, First Enchanter," Briar said, feeling the cracks in his mask again. "I didn't know that he was a blood mage. But it doesn't change anything because, with those circumstances and with the knowledge I had at the, I have no regrets." The men looked at him. Irving seemed shocked whilst Greagoir was the human embodiment of rage.

Just as Greagoir was about to open his mouth and have the Templars send him away a voice interrupted. "Wait, a moment, Greagoir," Duncan said as he sauntered in, gazing nonchalantly at the grotesque scene before him. "I have something to say."

"This doesn't concern the Grey Warden," Greagoir growled. "I do not care about anything you have to say right now!"

"But I think you will," Duncan said and stepped between Greagoir and Briar. "This young mage risked everything to save a friend in trouble. Irving said that he had been performing excellently up until this point. I think the Grey Warden will be lucky to have him."

Everyone's jaw dropped to the floor. "You can't be serious? He helped a maleficar destroy the only means of tracking him and instead of punishing him you want to reward him?"

Duncan shook his head. "Being a Grey Warden is no reward," he said firmly. "Besides, you know that there are worse things out there than blood magic."

Briar looked at the warrior with confusion. "But how could you even demand that?"

"The Grey Warden possesses the Right of Conscription," Irving said, seemingly impressed by the course of events. "Neither King nor the Chantry has a right to deny them their claim."

"What if I don't want to go? What if I wanted to face my punishment?"

Duncan turned to the elf. "There is nothing left for you here, boy. You know what awaits you if you stay."

Briar looked down at the ground. "Tranquillity, Aeonar or death it doesn't really matter."

Greagoir looked satisfied. "You see, Warden. He has accepted his fate in the eyes of the Maker."

"It's a waste of his gift," Duncan snapped. He turned to Briar. "Even you have no choice but to relent to a conscription. You may not thinks so now but you will thank me one day."

Briar sighed. "Then maybe this is my punishment."

The last thing he saw as he left the circle that evening was Cullen. His face told Briar what he was thinking. He wished he had killed him during the Harrowing.

Finally the walls crushed him.

* * *

The 3rd chapter is already half-done so it'll probably be up soon. I'm between semesters now so I might as well take the time to write when I can, haha.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N

I'm bad, bad, bad, I know. Never thought "soon" would mean a month but real life got the better of me. Spent most of the time taking care of my grandpa and when I got back I was too exhausted to start writing. Now I'm back though!

In case anyone wonders, I never like the way everyone (except Morrigan) wore the same generic clothing. It was so disappointing when you looked at the concept art. I like that companions had a sense of style in DA2 (I'm praying to Kelemvor that in Inquisition they'll keep the differences but let us customise it to a degree.) Any who, my point was in my mind most characters look like their concept art (like Wynne) and Grey Wardens wear Grey Warden armour. No grey iron for Alistair.

And I changed the name. Didn't like the old one and felt it didn't make sense to the story, this one will in the future.

* * *

3

He wielded his charming words like blades

The journey to Ostagar, where the army was to make their stand, was uneventful. Briar spent most of the time quietly moving along at their quick pace, deep in thought. He had made a promise the day he was found out trying to cast a glamor on himself, to change his appearance, that he never wanted to feel disgusted by himself again. He had broken that promise as he had broken the promise, to never disappoint Irving again, he made after his last escape attempt. Maybe he wasn't good at keeping promises.

They arrived at Ostagar on the morning of a sunny day. The sun rose defiantly despite the gloom that hovered over the slowly decaying ruins. Duncan had left Briar alone, to let him come to terms with his grief and guilt but now he needed the new recruit to put that aside to do what was needed to be done.

"Da'lath," he said, slowing down so that he walked next to the young elf. "I know that your departure was rough on you. But now you are about to enter a battlefield. If you let whatever you are feeling distract you, the men here will pay the price. Do you understand?"

Briar faced the man he felt had kidnapped him. "I may not like the situation I'm in but I won't take it out on any one else." He sighed heavily. "I know I could be useful here so I won't disobey anything you tell me."

Duncan looked at the mage, at his slumped posture and expressionless face. It was apparent to anyone looking at him that he was suffering. The very air around him seemed to get heavier like he had summoned a storm cloud, insistent on hanging over him. An aura of despair. "Good" was all Duncan managed to say.

As they walked through the ruins of the old fort a welcome party approached them. Leading them was a tall, fair-haired man with pleasant smile on his face. He wore golden massive armour that clashed with the humility that he eradiated.

"Greetings, Duncan," he exclaimed with his hand in the air as if he had known the man since childhood. "I expected you to be here earlier."

Duncan looked a little strained. "The road is longer than you realise, your Majesty."

Briar didn't find it that surprising that the man was the King. His armour and armed escort made it apparent that he was important. What were surprising were his casual way of talking and the fact that he took the time to greet the two all the way from the camp on the far side of the ruins.

"Hello there, friend," he said to Briar and looked down on the smaller elf. "Might I know your name?"

Briar's cheeks flushed a little. He had assumed that the King came to greet them because of Duncan and would just ignore him. "Yes of course, your Majesty" he said and bowed. "I am Da'lath Surana from the Circle of Magi."

The King chuckled. "So this is the new recruit you mentioned, Duncan?" he said and eyed Briar with amused curiosity. "A little younger than one would expect. But Duncan spoke highly of you. You must be a powerful mage."

Briar didn't know how he was supposed to respond to such high praise. "Thank you, your Majesty. You are too kind. I will try my best to live up to your expectations."

The King just smiled and gave him a little nod then turned his attention to Duncan who looked like he wanted to be filled in with the developments.

"How have you fared since I left?" Duncan said to the King.

"We have won major battles against the horde," the King said, his eyes were glistening like a child who was listening to a story. "But the Archdemon has yet to appear. I fear this might not be a Blight at all." The King looked off into the Wilds and added a melodramatic sigh to emphasise his disappointment. "I was hoping for a battle like the tales. The young king musters an army against all odds and goes to battle with the legendary warriors. Well, I suppose it's good if it isn't a Blight. We are planning one last strike to quell the monsters."

'_He realise that thousands have fallen against the past Blights, right?' _Briar thought.

"With respect, your Majesty," Briar started hesitantly. "Is it wise to be so confident with the situation?"

The King chuckled deeply. "Some say I'm overconfident."

Even though he was clearly a romantic, so stuck in the tales of Old his perception of reality was tainted, Briar could not find it in him to dislike the man. His sunny disposition was endearing.

Duncan had exchanged a couple more words with the King and then ordered Briar to find a man named Alistair, the junior member of the order who would oversee _The Joining._ He had said the phrase matter-of-factly like it was well known, but it seemed to be the very opposite. When Briar had questioned the man about what it might entail he had just looked at him knowingly with a ghost of smile playing on his lips. "You'll see" was all he had said and then left Briar standing confused at the beginning of a bridge that separated the edge of the ruins and its centre that had became the army's encampment. Briar sighed softly and decided that it was probably one of their many well-kept mysteries, probably as hush-hush as the Harrowing was in the Circle.

He made his way across the bridge and looked absentmindedly down into the chasm. The majority of the old fort had been built covering a small mountain and there were many ravines that went deep, making it almost impenetrable in its time. But it had fallen like so many other places, now making its final stance against Nature who was adamant at reclaiming the old land.

The path that Briar had taken seemed to lead the edge of the encampment, the one that was furthest from the Wilds and the monstrosities that lurked amidst the trees. As he took in his surroundings, his eyes immediately went to an odd group of tents that was encircled by a tall, wooden fence. Two Templars stood by the gates, eyeing everyone that passed by with suspiciousness; ready to turn away anyone that dared to come too close. _'Suppose that's the Circle's encampment. Wonder who they sent, I heard that some of the Senior Enchanters wasn't in the tower.'_

Briar skin crawled, he didn't want to be recognised by anyone here at Ostagar. It would mean explaining why he was there now, why he hadn't left with everyone else and, worse of all, why he won't be returning to the tower. No, he decided that slipping by the tents undetected would spare him the grief of answering questions he couldn't even bare to think about at the moment.

Just as he was in the clear and passed by a couple of lone trees a warm, familiar voice called out to him. "Are these old eyes failing me or is that really you, child?"

An old woman dressed in a delicate orange and dark green robe, embellished with golden embroidery and brass jewellery, was leaning comfortably against a tree; fixing her wise, steely eyes on the gaping elf. A gentle smile appeared on her slightly cracked lips as he recognised his old tutor.

"Wynne!" Briar exclaimed when his brain caught up to his eyes. He rushed over to her and embraced her in a quick, loving hug. At that single moment they were the only people in all of Thedas and time was reset to ten years ago, to the lonely youth who was desperate for acceptance and the motherly mentor who had given him all that and more. The looming storm clouds cleared, washed away by the gentle smile and an affectionate embrace. "I never thought I'd see you again."

She made a face, mostly for show, as they parted and smiled at him, eyes glimmering in the morning light. "You know better than to make such assumptions, don't you, child?" she admonished him gently. She narrowed her eyes and let her eyebrows crease into a slight frown. "But if you're here it means that… Oh, child!"

She patted him gently on the shoulder, the warmth of her hand and the pride in her eyes washed over Briar. "So you have heard?" he asked hesitantly, fearing exactly what news might have reached the warzone.

"Well, we got word that Duncan had recruited one more from the Circle," she explained. "But we never knew who. So this means you past your Harrowing. And at your age at that!"

"Yes," he said and looked at a spot between his feet, letting his elven ears twitch uncontrollably. "It made quite the commotion in the Circle from what I gathered." He looked at Wynne with his big eyes and lowered his voice to a whisper. "But honestly I don't feel special at all. It was gruesome. I don't think I have ever been so scared in my life, Wynne."

She chuckled. "I'm glad you can admit that. I wasn't so humble when I passed mine but I'm sure we all are just as terrified. The memories still linger to this day."

She told him about some of her experiences and about the Fade but Briar's mind had wandered elsewhere. He was ashamed. Ashamed at the fact that he so desperately wanted to stand there, listening to Wynne, his old mentor, talk to him with such pride in her voice. If she only knew the truth about him, would she still smile so whole-heartedly when she spoke? Would her grey eyes sparkle so beautifully when they caught the light? He didn't think so and that is where the shame came from. If she, Wynne who was so loyal to the Circle and to Chantry ideals, only knew, she would be furious. He knew he should tell her the truth and that withholding the truth, although not technically a lie was equally as bad. But he couldn't bare it, not another eclipse because that was what he had seen when he left the Circle, in Cullen. His eyes had always sparkled like precious jewels and his entire face had seemed to shine up with an angelic glow the moment he saw Briar. When he thought back to the dull, beady eyes that blankly stared at him, watched him leave the Circle forever he feared betrayal would darken them forever. He had so utterly devastated the man he had loved and who had loved him.

Briar feared the day he would meet Wynne again, after the knowledge of his part in Jowan's escape had reached her, as they parted. She had wished him well in the oncoming battle, that he'd make the Circle proud, and he mumble something not as eloquently back.

His mind was still far from reality when a pair of rough hands grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently. "Elf, why are you walking around here? Don't you have somewhere to be?" Briar was met with the unshaven face of middle-aged man. His brown eyes full of a hatred Briar had not experienced in a long time, sheltered as he had been in the Circle. He gave Briar a look-over and seemed appalled. "What are you wearing?"

"I'm from the Circle," Briar said, angry that his voice quivered and sounded like a whimper. "I'm with the Wardens"

The man's eyes widened, almost to the point where they could easily pop out of his sockets. "I-I-I'm terribly sorry, ser Mage," he stammered, easing his grip on Briar shoulder and began to rub them gently as if he could ease the pain. "You see there are so many elves here and it's hard to tell everyone apart and I didn't look long before I acted because that is just like me act first and ask later I'm just a simple quartermaster not something to bother such a nice mage please don't be cross."

His ability to change from harshness to humility was astounding but also showed that he too was victim of mistreatment by those who stood over him. Briar couldn't find it in him to be angry anymore. He was also impressed by the man's ability to cram so many words in one sentence without pausing to breathe.

Briar smiled at him reassuringly. "It's fine," he said and was met with disbelief. "Really, no harm done." _Not anything that I can't heal anyways. _ "But you should probably not be so quick act next time. And perhaps not treat your servants so roughly…"

The quartermaster laughed sheepishly and promised Briar that he would get a discount and a look at some of his more special stuff later for his kindness and generosity. He continued his search for the elusive Alistair and followed the main road up a small hill. Voices caught his ears when he reached the top. It seemed to be an argument. To Briar's surprise the two men weren't yelling. One of them, a mage by the look of his robe, was making passive aggressive remarks with a low voice. The other man, clad in a Warden's plate armour with its blue striped chainmail and golden gryphon insignia, looked quite cheerful and handled the mages anger with witty commentary, clearly egging him on.

"You know I quite like this chat we're having," the Warden said, smiling brilliantly. "I think I'll name one of my children after you…" His smile disappeared quickly and was replaced with hardness. "The grumpy one," he added with an edge in his voice.

The mage shook his head and pushed passed Briar muttering about fools and Templars.

The Warden's smile returned once again as he turned towards Briar. "You know," he said and looked at the sky as if he was pondering something deep. "One good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together." He looked amused when he saw Briar shock and confusion. "That's probably the only good thing though. Hey, you wouldn't be another mage, would you?"

The elf narrowed his eyes automatically, ready for the ignorance and prejudice against mages he had heard about from the mages who had left the Circle. "Why are you planning on another bout?"

The man waved his hand in front of him in gesture of peace, still smiling. "No, no," he said quickly. "Haven't seen you, 's all. Thought I had been yelled by every mage in the army." He sighed and slumped his shoulders like a child. "You're not going to start yelling now are you?" he asked sullenly.

Briar shook his head. "You wouldn't happen to be related to the King, would you?" he asked, and chuckled.

The Warden's eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Briar said, becoming aware of the fact how casually he was comparing the two. "It was a poor joke, I didn't mean to imply anything. Well, except that you two seem to be the only one who remain cheerful despite everything."

The warrior face changed to a childish pout. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"No," Briar injected. His eyes glimmered as they caught the light that had made its way past the remaining of the ruins in the east. "I quite like it actually. It's oddly charming."

The Warden huffed. "Well, don't go and spread that around or everyone will come and talk to me. 'Cheer me up, Alistair,' they'd say and I won't know what tell them. They will be terribly disappointed and might even cry. Such a mess you would make."

Briar had a growing suspicion that spending time with this strange man would amount to countless of headshakes. "You seem to like hearing yourself talk. I don't think you'd have much trouble filling the silence," he teased, sure that the man would just laugh at his comment. He did. "So you are Alistair?"

Alistair smiled at him even more brilliantly than before. "That I am. That would mean that you're the new recruit," he said and scratched the back of his head. "I'm sorry I should have realised that before."

* * *

And there it is. That man charming man.  
Btw, I've been playing neverwinter nights 2 like a crazy person. Almost referred to the Warden as the Kalach-cha. That would've been awkward. And no I hear Zhjaeve hissing it seductively. On that note...


End file.
